I have moved recently and I am presently without a writing space. It does feel like an arm has been lost or something worse, something I cannot put my finger on (no pun intended on losing an arm). However, I have been exploring new spaces in my new house — I am waiting to build an office in our meadow. So while that happens I will try and find new spaces. The meadow office is far from my first writing space that I actaully owned (see picture).
The meadow office will look out over the moors rather than a car park. A big thing for me as I am and will always be a country boy at heart. Funny though when I think of all the writing spaces I have been in that they are largely suburban or city. I wonder how this impacted on my early work, how I tried to grab some peace between friends, family and the sounds of traffic. Looking back I have written in my parents spare bedroom, in the woods near my house with one of the worst polluted rivers slinking through (a river I played in as a kid, sometimes being innocent works in your favour), several flats, bedsits and city parks (an inner yearning for greenery), cafes, posh and greasy and bus, train and taxi, largely all greasy.
It makes me wonder what is the idealised space is – I think my favourite ever space was at the foot of the stairs in all my homes – I’d like to hear about the space you write in.
Andrew Oldham's Boneyard 